


Ruhekampf

by 7Threes



Series: The World of Mundi [1]
Category: The World of Mundi
Genre: Original work - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7Threes/pseuds/7Threes
Summary: In the world of Mundi where magic and technology collide, two armies struggle for supremacy.Long after the advanced civilization of the Frysta Gudar mysteriously disappeared, two factions struggle to find the truth.The Leo Imperium tried hard to suppress the beliefs of the Frysta Gudar in their land, but a rebellion rages, calling themselves the Krähen Resistance.





	1. Ρrοιοgυε

> _**"The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is subject of inquiry which can no longer be neglected." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War.** _

  
The fabrics strung from the banners bellowed in the wind, the test over the vast land of Darra met its overture. On the cliffside above the land stood flags of white and red draped over the banners held by warriors clad in the colors. A red lion plastered itself on the fabric, bearing claws and the unbridled maw of the gnashing teeth. In the lining of the woods below stood the wall of black, neon green and a hue of midnight blue staked into the earth; standing against the wind. Upon the banners, the decal of a great crow with three neon green stripes for its right eye, gaunt and wretched talons bared in its berserker, ebon-winged rage and struggle against the flurry of the wind, the beak opening broad as the crow shouted to the sky.

The Leo Imperium army _wouldn't_ stand for the Krähen rebellion.

" _Former_ Major Vornehm, tell your ' _men_ ' to stand down. This land is Imperium land, and we won't let your vulgarian renegades blight our land with your fraudulent deities!" Brigadier General Ignis Nubila commanded the Krähen Brigadier General, Seher Vornehm.

"I refuse to follow your commands, Ignis the Deceiver. I am Seher Vornehm, and I demand that all scribes write of my next words." Seher spoke in response.

"I refuse to record the wills of dying vermin." Ignis spat his mocking words.

Beside Brigadier General Ignis stood Lieutenant General Otium Libero, recently demoted for his inability to bring himself to stop the Krähen from escaping the capital. Otium placed a hand on Ignis's shoulder clad in white plates with the edges pearlescent red; Ignis certainly wasn't modest.

"Brigadier General, let him speak." Otium spoke softly, voice like a poison embedded in honey. It was sweet and gentle, but his imposing and grand presence made the words flow heavier than normal ones.

Ignis held his gaze at Otium, stagnant in his surprise. Otium pushed Ignis back, and the obvious difference in build could be seen. Otium was grand and a majesty to bare sight at, his armor plates melded into a great canvas where fleurs and paisleys twisted and churned into a piece of art in a tool of war. The fabrics were maroon and leathery, all but his collar and cape which was made of a snow leopard's stark and furry hide, the collar resembling something of a mane of a grand lion of the tundra. In fact, he seemed to be just that.

"Darra is the land of snow, but his voice is as warm as the hearth." Seher exhaled silently, breath becoming vapor in the chilled air.

"Listen to as Seher Vornehm says, as it very well may be the last thing he says." Otium stood straight, fists balled to his sides as he looked down to Seher and met his gaze.

Seher found the time to speak was now. His men had traveled far from moors up to their knees and deserts empty and dry for ages, and now was the time they came so long for. Now was the hour they worked for, and there was no messing this up.

"I may be vermin, a heathen, heretic, and a disgrace. Spit at me all you like, show me all you've got; you can assault me, degrade me, and shame me, but know that I - the vermin, the heretic, the disgrace - will do everything within my power for these men. All of these people that stand behind me are heroes, changers, and dreamers. They believe in what is right, and as do I. They have worked to make their dreams become true, and today I stand here with every single one of them. I know that I will not have children, nor will I ever meet my love, or see the dreams I have dreamt fulfilled. I am young, but I am ready to die for these people. I may not be a father, but these people- these men are my sons, and I am so proud of them- all of them. I may be the scum of the earth, but so guide me Kväll, if my sons are ever disgraced or tarnished, I shall curse the world and all its children. My beloved sons stand with me, and because they are my beloved sons they aren't afraid to die with a scum like myself. My sons are all distinguished, my platoon's name reflects that very fact; Vornehm." Seher Vornehm spoke as he began to tear up, snow beginning to fall softly. As the cold flakes touched his skin, he felt that today held some destiny.

Otium smiled beneath his helmet, content with Vornehm's heartfelt words.  
_"Is this what you meant, Ira Aurae?_ " he thought to himself.  
Otium lifted his blade made of infused steel and carbon ice kept cold by the technologies created by a dead civilization from long ago. The sword's name was Pardus Glaciem, infamous for the stinging cuts it leaves and the buzzing of cold in your veins for months. The blade was so cold, it was said that Otium was the only man who could wield it because of his ancient blood.

And that very blade was pointed right at Seher Vornehm.


	2. Sεcτιοη I: Lαγιηg Ριαηs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Τhε ιητrοδυcτιοη το τhε fιrsτ sεcτιοη.

> **Great and powerful warriors once marched these halls;**   
>  **it was a grand place full of so much hope and pride within the simple banners strung from the walls.**
> 
> **They were grand and vast at one point, but that golden age has ceased to be.**
> 
> **In their final hour, they hadn't heeded the spires of smoke in the distance and the red flickering hues on the hill; they took no mind towards what was the beginning.**
> 
> **Revenants march these once-grand halls now in the sundered quarters of what used to hold heroes and elites.**
> 
> **The majesty's doors sealed to the world, the inner dwelling never to be set free, or smell the airs of the sea, or wander the streets.**


	3. Τhε Μοrαι Lαω

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Τhε sοηgs of Mοrαιιτγ ιη ωαr.

> _**"The Moral Law causes the people to be in complete accord with their ruler, so they will follow him regardless of their lives, undismayed by any danger." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War.** _

It was a gloomy day, much like others. It always was gloomy in Skugga because of the overcast that always loomed overhead. It always seemed to be raining, ideal for masking heat signatures on the radar, and the constant eroding land always gave the locals tactical advantage. Fresh water could be collected from the rain, a rarity among the Krähen strongholds. The women and children who support Krähen beliefs often were forced into living in unruly conditions, extremes and virtually infertile land. They were weak now, but it doesn't mean they hadn't the will to become strong. In the foggy distance, the faint familiar glow of neon green split through. A war horn bellowed from the watchtower up on the hill; it was time for the villagers to go outside to meet their fathers, sons, and husbands return from battle.

"It's the Vornehm!" a child awed at this chance to meet war heroes and perhaps even help the famed unit.

There were times like this in Skugga, in all Krähen strongholds. There would be after-battle roll calls and casualty counts to kindly inform families and loved ones of the stasis of their troops. The injured were often brought in quaint things mostly used by the poor. They would use carriages, stow away on wooden ships, and other means of transportation. The Leo Imperium were obvious with their transport, from hollering aircrafts to loud tanks clanking and shaking upon itself across the stretched of Mundi. The Krähen had no such luxuries, as they aimed for a guerilla approach in this war.

"I heard they marched all the way to Darra as part of their training." a woman whispers to her friend that stood beside her.

The people of Skugga would gather at the town square with light red bricks in the design of the banner of Skugga. Of course, rain and mud would get in between the cracks in the bricks and weather the square. The builders of Skugga has not anticipated the Great Quakes of 354 BKE (Before Krähen Era) which exposed the great geysers that forever clouded the sky in smoke and carbon dioxide, engulfing Skugga and its territories in virtually eternal acid rain.

"I heard that too!" her friend whispered back.

In the Skugga town square, people would typically advertise things on kiosks, sometimes wanted posters found their way on them. Beggars would gather around here, and some cults would do their meetings on clear nights. The town square was much like a tavern, which gathered many different people and even more vast information. Now, words swirled around about the Vornehm and their return.

"People are saying that Major General Otium Libero was there." a third person chimed; a man, most likely a traveling tradesmen. Men are a rare sight in Skugga.

Sometimes, strangers from other lands would listen to the information and gather it as part of their occupation. From spies to agents to journalists, information was vital. Skugga didn't find itself often targeted by these people, however; Skugga was dangerous and mostly military and stagnant.

"Where did you hear that?" the first woman asked.

Most men in Skugga were part of the three regiments. In each Krähen stronghold, there would be three regiments full of different platoons all with the same specialization. The Vornehm were part of the Vorkämpfer Regiment, managed by the Major General Eldsvåda Zunge, who wouldn't greet the Vornehm, but instead would be evaluating the Vornehm's mission report.

"I was stopping by at the Leo Imperium capital to stock up, and I overheard some chatter about it in a tavern stopped in for a drink." he replied, tipping his black hat.

The other regiments were known as the Beschutzen and Zentrum regiments. The Beschutzen Regiment of Skugga was managed by Major General Järnhård Wikinger, who would be greeting the returning Vornehm. The Beschutzen Regiment is made up of several platoons that defended strongholds they were stationed at, the Major General managing it typically had a group of distinguished soldiers protecting them under the special class name of Heiden.

"So you're a smuggler?" the other woman asked.

The Zentrum Regiment of Skugga was managed by Major General Skymt Kors, who would manage strategy and other things of the sort. Rumor has it that Skymt made a deal with the ancient god of pages and documents Skåda Verklighet to send him a book across from the parallel dimensions in exchange for being Skåda's eternal servant. The Zentrum Regiment is made up of several spies, hackers, assassins, and smugglers all in a division of the regiment known as Vriden. Within the regiment are several wise, intelligent, and logical nobles, veterans, and other people who debate with each other in what is known as the State Council which determine the individual laws of all the land included in the stronghold independent from federal laws.

"Yes, I'm one of the smugglers. I move contraband and steal from the Imperium. May I interest you in some business?" the man raised his eyebrows.

Vriden go by several fake aliases, the Major Generals governing the Zentrum Regiment are the only people who know anything true about them. Vriden constantly move around from stronghold to stronghold, city to city burning through fake names. They are deprived from their family, and the mere fact that they are in the Vriden is top secret to even family. The life of a Vriden is said to be lonely and isolating, cruel and cynical.

"I actually have a few questions for you." the woman stated.

There are several legends of Vriden, some even debate whether they even exist. Some say they are phantoms, revenants seeking revenge against those who cursed the ancient gods. Their existence goes uncredited, and their lives seem to flicker away.

"Go right ahead, ma'am." the smuggler straightened his black trench coat and adjusted his mask.

The eerie atmosphere of Skugga is accommodating to the Zentrum. Here, it is said the best of Vriden were produced with the help of Major General Skymt Kors.

"First, I'd like to ask for your name." the woman continued.

Of course, there are the few who know of the Vriden. Skugga is the most self-aware of them, yet the stronghold itself is used to keeping secrets.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't tell you my real name- it's a policy- however, I can tell you my alias. I am Lögnare, at your service. Was there anything else you needed to know?" the smuggler bowed.

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor." the woman asked.

"That all depends on the task and reward." Lögnare grinned beneath the fabric of his mask.

"If you ever stop at a tavern, could you ask the barkeep if they've heard anything about Lieutenant Rycka Unbekannte?" the woman asked Lögnare.

"Why this specific person? Does he mean something to you?" Lögnare questioned her, "A friend perhaps? Family? Sibling? _Spouse_?"

"He's my brother, and set out for the navy a few months ago on a very long mission. Just ask about him, nothing in particular- tell me anything you learn." the woman begged.

"Don't worry, Ms. Unbekannte. I'll even add it as a note. Just provide me with your full name, address, and your port number." Lögnare took out his notebook and his ink stamps.

"Ink and stamps? Isn't that awfully quaint?" Ms. Unbekannte observed.

"These stamps use special ink, and these stamps prevent tracking me through my handwriting." Lögnare explained as he attempted to shelter the ink from the slight drizzle with a slight grunt,"-And~," he paused slightly as he pressed in the letter 'H' at the top of the small paper,"-If I use a portable computer, documents always can be tracked." he ended with a sigh, looking up to Ms. Unbekannte and clearing his throat.

"Unda Unbekannte, 117 Viduam, 39021." Ms. Unbekannte said.

"Unda? That sounds Leish." Lögnare hummed in observation as he pressed hard on the paper.

"My mother was Leish, her name Lapsus. My father was Krähen. The war broke out in the middle of their marriage, and two of my siblings stayed with my mother, my brother and I with my father. I wouldn't be surprised if they changed their last name." Unda spoke softly.

Lögnare hummed in confirmation as he finished pressing down the last stamp and rubbed the ink off the stamps he used with his wool gloves, both looking up as another sound of the post-battle roll call, or the "Nach Schlachtruf".

The soldiers stood in a grand formation with carriages transporting the dead and wounded. Järnhård Wikinger marched in front of the formation of troops, his personal Heiden guards. Heiden troops were clad in heavy armor toting pikes with galvanized tips, all made up of exceptional troops with their own rank names.

The Heiden marched in front of the Vornehm in a straight horizontal line, the Major General in the middle of the line as he hollered out for his shuffling men to halt.

"Halt! Wir beginnen Nach Schlachtruf!" Järnhård Wikinger called out, his troops stopping and turning towards the Vornehm briskly.

"Is it really necessary for them to use that language?" a woman scoffed.

The carriage of the wounded and dead were hauled by Hilfe troops in the Skugga Division to the medical center which stemmed into a morgue.

"Why did he have to believe in this poppycock of all things? Can't we live in peace?" another groaned.

One of the troops of the Vornehm glared at the onlooking women through his helmet, his anger unseen by all because of the gear. Others were crying beneath their helmets, some even with the faces of death. And yet, they still held their guns in arms and stood before the Major General without a leader. Was it because of their belief in the cause that they would go so far?

As the Major General began announcing the names of those who made it- who stand before him, women broke into tears and sobs, some enjoying that they could return to Leish protection. Children awed at the soldiers, wishing to follow in their footsteps out of their ignorance of what war brings.

"Where is Brigadier General Seher Vornehm?" Järnhård asked as he finally finished announcing those who returned safely.

There was silence for a moment, yet it felt like eternity. The rain poured harder now, and the mud held puddles of rippling water, sometimes splashing over the grooves within. The fog seemed to have lifted, but the air was heavy with something else more imposing.

The first to speak was Colonel Qeth Val, born in this very mud. He was orphaned at a young age so he trained in the boot camp for years longer than normal applicants go. There were no orphanages in Skugga, so the only government-supported place he could go was the boot camp. Despite being extremely talented and distinguished, it seems as if he's met with stagnancy at the rank Colonel. Apparently he saw Seher Vornehm as a fatherly figure, what he would've wanted.

"His corpse rests in the snowy summits of Darra, sir." Colonel Val said as he took off his helmet and held it above his heart, looking down gravely with heavy bags under his eyes.

"Repeat that, Colonel; Brigadier General Seher Vornehm is what?" the Major General said in disbelief, worsening Qeth's guilt.

"Brigadier General Seher Vornehm died in the battle for Darra. He was the first to fall." Qeth grimaced in his anguish and sorrow.

Another moment passed. Nature is a cruel thing, as the clouds poured and mourned for the Brigadier General that knew he would die. It was mocking his sacrifice, ridiculing the purpose of his death. He died for a cause, and so should his beloved sons.

"Who did it?" the Major General asked, voice rather soft than usual.

Another moment passed, and nothing was said.

 _"Who did it?!"_ the Major General yelled, his fists were balled but his face was sorrowful; he was disgruntled.

"Lieutenant General Otium Libero, sir." Qeth replied, eyes shut tight as he tensed just announcing the name.

"Well, it's my time to get going." Lögnare tipped his hat to obscure his eyes as he turned away from Unda and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, boots squeaking in the mud.

"Did you know something about this?" Unda spoke, the feeling of betrayal evident in her voice.

Lögnare stopped, head still down, rain still pouring.

"Why did you bury him in Darra?" the Major General angrily questioned.

"Darra was his _dream_ , sir." Qeth replied.

"Is it _dreams_ , or the _Krähen_ , Colonel? You can't just bury him there!" the Major General continued.

Qeth opened his eyes, a small spark in them below his furrowed brows.

"This Rebellion is built on dreams, _sir_."

" _Excuse me_ , Colonel?" Järnhård huffed,"Get out of here."

Qeth had no objections, though. He placed his helmet back on his head, and pushed his way out of the line of Heiden troops.

"No." Lögnare responded softly to Unda's question about his involvement before continuing his tread.

Oddly enough, the fog came back, Qeth and Lögnare were swallowed in its cold embrace.


	4. Hεανεη

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Τhε ρrοmιsεs οf sαινατιοη rεsτ ιη τhε hορεs οf Hεανεη.

> _**"Heaven signifies night and day, cold and heat, times and seasons." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War.** _

_'Sometimes I wonder what is beyond death. Is it rebirth? Another world? Or is it endless decay and darkness? Is what we call Heaven even the truth? Perhaps we just believe in Heaven because we are scared that we will one day cease... but I am not afraid anymore. I only wish to depart from this world leaving something people will remember me by... yet I am prohibited. As a Vriden, I am merely a tool. I cannot be remembered for my exploits, never ever recognizable. The day I do is the day I die.'_ Lögnare wrote in his journal with his pen in Cypher Code (3 letters back) and Hexadecimal. He had to be sure he was the only one who could read it; if not, information may fall into the wrong hands.

Even so, he felt rather sentimental as of recently. Maybe it was the sight of the Vornehm that made him feel this way. He may die any day, so at least he should depart with a legacy. If only the world were that simple.

After the Vornehm returned, Lögnare hitched a ride on the back of a caravan cart. Caravans in the Krähen mostly consisted of armored cars with bulletproof treads, toting large carts and containers full of goods and smuggled gear. The caravans were always guarded heavily by troops to ensure money flows through their cities. Caravans often were housing soldiers in the containers to transport them into enemy territory. The Leo Imperium never suspected the traders from Krähen would support the cause, perhaps blinded by their ignorance.

This particular caravan vehicle was actually a mobile base for Vriden, and Lögnare had to be the lookout. Within the caravan itself traveled many different salesmen, nobles, and traders, and in the very back trudged the Virden-housing vehicle. Nobody else in the caravan suspected it, though.

Lögnare leaned on the railing of the catwalk on the back of the steel cart, keeping eye out in the damp and boggy wood for any pirates or Imperium soldiers. Today was particularly dull because he hadn't been able to talk to anyone on the inside, so he started thinking, reading, writing- anything just to keep him occupied.

There was a knock on the other side of the cart's metal doors, and an associate stepped beside Lögnare. It was Skida; he could tell by the midnight black leather jacket with steel studs imbedded on the rim of his sleeves, and the steel spiked plate on his left shoulder crossing down with a chain strap securely to his belt with several containers for various items. Lögnare didn't look up to look at his mask, though. Unlike his own, Skida's mask was a hard helmet in the style of a scowling skull, steel piercings through the brow and up into horns. Skida was in charge of gathering information through interrogation out of their squad, and often makes bands of pirates to raid Imperium villages and caravans. Skida also had a more confidential side to him, private missions ordered from higher-ups.

"Any luck finding any jobs?" Lögnare tried to spark a conversation.

" _Nix_. We don't have anything, yet." Skida sighed as he placed a patch of Lyckorus over his carotid artery, humming as it touched his skin.

"You're still hitting the Lyckorus, Skida? You know how bad it can be for your brain." Lögnare observed.

"Hmm... The only thing it really does is change up the sleep-eat cycle in the hypothalamus." Skida rolled his eyes.

"Lyckorus does more than that, Skida. They're still researching the side-effects, so don't use it so often." Lögnare said.

"Alright, alright. This is the first patch I've had all day anyway. I've been trying to keep it for only instances I need." Skida informed Lögnare.

"What was the dose of the patch?" Lögnare asked.

"I dropped from 50 milligrams to 35 within a week, so I'm getting better." Skida hummed, his hands hanging loose from the railing by his wrists,"That reminds me actually... How're you doing? You had Dysarthria after you escaped from that gang in the Imperium capital."

"I stopped by a hospital there, they didn't know who I was. I was so glad they thought I was some poor homeless man caught in between gang violence. The Imperium technology is actually pretty helpful... They made a custom micro-sized metal plate that supports and assists with my speech. Of course, I'll have our Zentrum Hilfe examine it to produce voice-imitating software, or something like that." Lögnare hummed, remembering his previous mission.

"The Hilfe? What was his name again?" Skida muttered the himself.

"Obhut, you mean?" Lögnare asked.

"Yeah, that's the one. The kid's an amateur at shutting up, but he has lots of potential." Skida spoke.

"Obhut. What a strange name. Certainly isn't Gudar. Maybe it's modern?" Lögnare wondered.

"I think he speaks a little bit of the God Language. You know, the one Generals speak in beginning roll call." Skida said.

"What, did you read his file?" Lögnare narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah. Did it with you, too; even if the higher-ups forbid us." Skida shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"Don't tell me you had Synd hack into the database." Lögnare rubbed his face.

"I did. The kid's so strange though. Always acts so bright despite what he's doing. That, I had to hack for myself." Skida mumbled.

"Maybe we shouldn't be breaking all of these rules. You know what happens if we do." Lögnare lowered his brow.

"I don't think you qualify to tell me that advice. I know exactly what happened back at Skugga, so don't try to lie to me." Skida retorted.

"I know. What can you tell me about Obhut, though?" Lögnare asked.

"Born in the Imperium the illegitimate son of a noble, lived in hiding for months. Took care of himself. He came to Krähen, and changed his name upon the induction ceremony into the cause. Very aloof and whatever sort of stuff." Skida hummed.

"I never had to take the induction ceremony, and you said you'd one day tell me about it. What's it like?" Lögnare asked.

"Well, it varies depending on what you did before coming to the Krähen. I was a bandit, so I took the Oath To Ärlig, the god of honesty." Skida told Lögnare.

"So your Divine Guardian is Ärlig?" Lögnare asked.

"Yes, who's yours?" Skida asked.

"I'm... Not sure. Which demi-son are you named after?" Lögnare questioned.

"Skida... I'm named after Skuggbild, the demi-son who murdered his own father and was envious of his brother Älska's happiness and forgiveness. Skuggbild, the demi-son of torment." Skida explained.

"Who was Skuggbild's father?" Lögnare wondered.

"His name is Zsiok, the Divine Guardian of judgment. I thought you knew of the gods." Skida mumbled.

"I was born here, but never did I really care for beliefs." Lögnare admitted.

Skida gave Lögnare a deathly stare from behind his visor, sunken eyes fierce and threatening. _"Your name... means lie."_ Skida's voice was not his own.

"What?" Lögnare questioned, surprised at Skida's voice.

_"Elak Ond. Sehen du."_ the eerie voice emitted from behind Skida's mask. There was a faint hue of green from the dark eyeholes of the mask that faded after Skida ceased speaking.

Lögnare closed his eyes for what he swore was just a second when he found himself on some driftwood by the wreckage of an ancient wooden ship in the midst of a cold sea, mist engulfing the world around. A crow perched on the splintered mast rotted and barnacled. The crow blinked at Lögnare, mocking him despite its seemingly innocent tilting of the head.

_“Kval sees, and Kval hears. The sea has ripples, and Kval feels it. There is unsettled souls here, yet a mortal of flesh and bone rests before Kval. Kval is interested.”_ a voice beckons, but comes from nowhere.

“Who is Kval?” Lögnare sits up hastily, looking in all directions to find nothing still.

_“Hmm… Kval also goes by other names. Vånda, Smärta, Ångest, Qual. Haha, some even say Hoffnungslosigkeit, but Kval doesn't expect one or the other. Kval is a feeling manifest like the rest, but of course Kval was forgotten over time. Kval waits now for the time he returns. Kval knows you have come here feeling such.”_ the voice spoke again.

“Kval…? Why do I know that word?” Lögnare muttered.

_“Kval has watched for some time. Over Zeit. You know Zeit as time, but it means so much more. Do you know what Kval is?”_ the voice asked.

“No, I do not. Enlighten me.” Lögnare demanded.

_“Kval. Vånda. All the names mean one thing; anguish. Kval is that feeling, but do you know why it follows you?”_ the voice began to hum, it's creaky voice a dreadful melody.

“Perhaps it is because I am doomed to exist without being remembered.” Lögnare confessed to the abyss.

_“It is because you do not put in any effort to change that.”_ it corrected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyckorus is a fictional emollient that works like nicotine patches, although it travels to your hypothalamus and elicits the reaction that produces adrenaline and various other hormones in the human body that enhance one's ability to act in combat. As result of this, chemicals typically get overloaded into neuron receptors, inhibiting certain pathways in the brain. However, that effect only occurs in rare circumstances. Often times a user of Lyckorus will experience bouts of extreme euphoria or depression; with the production of many hormones it leaves the user restless and irritable, and quickens metabolism and muscle/tissue reconstruction, which has the potential to cause cancer among users.


	5. Εαrτh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thε grουηδs ωε sτερ οη αrε αιι ραrτ οf τhε ωοrιδ's ιηfιηιτε αrτ.

> _**“Earth compromises distances, great and small; danger and security; open ground and narrow passes; the chances of life and death.” - Sun Tzu, The Art of War.** _

_Otium Libero was a name cursed by many people from in the Krähen and the Imperium alike. He once was a General that was housed in the capital city Epistylium, but he had failed his mission to end the Krähen before they could escape. Most were normal civilians, didn't deserve to be killed ruthlessly. Ever since 4 KE (four years after the Krähen Rebellion was first even thought of), Otium couldn't bring himself to even command troops to move against the people._

_When General Ira Aurae called in his Cinis squadron, it was too hard to bear the sight of it all. A quarter of Epistylium was plunged into chaos that day, the sky with several Vindico ships zipping through the orange-hued smoke that blocked even the clouds. Small flaming packages of destruction rained down and slammed into the rooftops, walls, and concrete, splitting the earth in a furious firestorm._

_"Otium! Tell your men to create a barricade! We can't let the heathens escape the city walls!" Ira Aurae spoke through his radio and into Otium's ears through the built in headset if his helmet._

_Otium couldn't. He watched the wonderful city burn like hell, but hell only punishes those who deserve it. This was worse than hell, for innocents were getting killed in the one-sided fire. He wouldn't stop the people from leaving the city, no matter what it would cost him._

_Otium pressed the button on the side of his helmet with two fingers, unmoving otherwise for he was terrified."Negative, General Ira Aurae. Let the civilians evacuate the city first."_

_"That's an order from the higher-ups, Otium." Ira Aurae firmly responded._

_"Is there something wrong with the Zentrum Intelligence Tower? Why aren't they transmitting me the message themselves?" Otium hesitantly asked._

_"The Zentrum Intelligence Tower was broken into by heretics, Otium. We have to think for ourselves now." Ira Aurae morbidly spoke._

_"Where are the Beschutzen? Why didn't they protect the Zentrum Intelligence Tower?" Otium gritted his teeth._

_"Otium… you don't know, do you?" Ira Aurae responded._

_"What? What is it?" Otium worried frantically._

_"The Beschutzen Regiments in the main sector of Epistylium all have been called to defend the palace. The only Beschutzen deployed are the North, South, East, and West wall guards. You currently are the closest to the exit with your men, so go! Block the exit!" Ira Aurae urgently stated._

_"I cannot follow those orders, Ira. You know I can't do that." Otium replied, stubbornness in his tone._

_"I… I know that, Otium. I wish we didn't have to, but the Commander has called for this. You can't disobey! You may be killed!" Ira Aurae gritted his teeth._

_"To hell with orders, General Ira Aurae! We need to protect the civilians with our lives!" Otium objected._

_"I'm afraid most were caught in the firestorm, Otium." Ira Aurae morbidly informed Otium._

_"Then we must protect what remains. Inform the Commander that Beschutzen General Otium Libero will not partake in his plan, but rather a mission to protect the civilians." Otium straightened his posture._

_"Yes, Otium. I'll inform the Commander right away. But I have just one thing to say if you'll let me." Ira Aurae responded, adjusting his grip on the control panel of his large Ops he personally named Arx._

_Ops are large aircrafts with powerful hulls that transport heaps of cargo including imported goods, weapons, armor, munitions, troops, and occasionally other vehicles. General Ira Aurae; the General of the Leo Imperium Air Force had a special division of bombers called Cinis with Vindico. Vindico are essentially super fast stealth bombers that mostly are flat in size and can hold up to two pilots and three crew members._

_Right now, Ira Aurae's Ops, Arx, blocked the sky along with the smoky skies._

_"You can tell me, General Ira Aurae." Otium Libero spoke as he looked up towards Arx._

_"What you're doing is brave and more wise than the Commander's decision in my opinion. Without a doubt General Otium Libero, you will face consequences by the Commander's hand. Worry not General Otium Libero, you've got guts-- more guts than I think I'll ever have. Don't let orders stop you from doing what is right. Never let them. You are a great man, General Otium Libero. You see the humanity in everyone. Not only that, but you are a great warrior. Follow what you find true to your heart, and never let the Commander bring you down to Mundi." Ira Aurae began to shed tears, but not out of sorrow; out of joy and happiness._

_"What you say... it's heresy. General Ira Aurae, watch what you say. I don't want to be responsible for your humiliation." Otium Libero replied full of guilt._

_"No. It is nothing I will regret, and nothing you have brought me to say. I have sunk in too deep into the Leo Imperium's laws and regulations. Now you've made me see something. Something worth dying for." Ira Aurae finished._

* * *

 

Now Otium began to see what he considered heresy so very long ago. He saw it in Vornehm's eyes, heard it in his voice.

When the Battle of Darra ended and the soldiers dispersed and retreated, the only thing that remained on the battlefield was Otium Libero, Seher Vornehm's corpse, and one of the Vornehm soldiers. Otium was surprised to see the soldier, clad in the traditional Krähen colors and with his helmet to his side. He was white and nearly bald with black and shaven hair. His complexion was dirty and muddy, faded black war paint around his eyes... or were those bags? His face was that of a grave soldier, which most likely was the case.

The soldier silently shuffled through the snow to the foot of Seher Vornehm's lifeless body, taking his helmet from his side and holding it before his core with both hands as he loomed over the dead.

The Vornehm's body shook in a mixture of emotion; anger, frustration, sorrow, grief, guilt-- anguish, terror, dismay and denial. It was pathetic to watch for Otium. He had seen this very thing countless times when the Krähen would lose their leaders, and every time Otium took pity on the souls and ended their misery so they could once again see their leader.

Otium wondered if he had anyone who would mourn for him on the battlefield if he were to ever die. Would anyone cry for him? Would anyone miss him? Would anyone remember him?

_Ira Aurae._

The thought flashed through his head as he remembered his close ally. His fate after the Firestorm of Epistylium was unclear to Otium, who was demoted to a Lieutenant General and set at the head of the province of Darra.

Otium Libero looked to the Vornehm soldier and examined his armor. By the looks of it, the soldier was a Colonel. On his face there was a faint scar on his bottom lip, his chin was very squared and his jawline very sharp. His temples were small indents, the muscles of his brow stressed and wrinkled by the constant expressions many will find in war. His skin was dry and pale, but the dirt on his skin made it appear dark. His eyes were very sunken and shrouded by his brow from the cliffside Otium looked upon.

The Colonel's legs buckled and collapsed his knees down into the snow as his expression darkened and his grip around his helmet tightened in his grief. Small bursts of twitches came with the shuddering breaths that puffed out vapor into the cold air. The Colonel looked down and clenched his teeth tightly by the look of the stress on his jaw, his eyes screwed shut in his sullen sockets. Warm tears streamed down his dirt-stained face, leaving a trail.

Otium Libero swore he heard a whisper not from the Colonel, but the wind.

"Kval." the word carried through the gusts, shaking the trees and lifting snow.

"Damn it all to _Vitium_ , Seher!" the Colonel struck his fist into the snow as he doubled over in his disgruntled episode.

It caught Otium's attention that the Colonel held a Krähen dog tag in the fist he struck the world with.

"Your dream... you promised me that you would bring you to the peaks! You promised me that we would see the world beneath the Guardian Deities! In a place with no war, no Krähen, no Imperium-- but in a world in peace." the Colonel's voice was quiet like a whisper and wavered with each little pause.

"Your whole campaign was built on this dream, and I wanted to be part of it." the Colonel muttered even softer, stopping his shaking and slowing his breaths.

Seher Vornehm's supposed corpse stirred and held his wound from Pardus Glaciem that was crusted with frozen crimson blood.

Seher wasn't dead yet.

Otium reached for his blade but halted as he felt a familiar touch to his shoulder. He looked back, but saw nobody was there. When looking down into the snow, however, he saw the gleam of metal imbedded within the glistening whiteness. He bent down to pick up the object and inspect it.

It was a Leo Imperium dog tag.

The chain was broken, and the tag itself had deep abrasions on the submetallic surface, sparse burns and specks of blood plastering the tag.

Along the broken chain also hung a small data package labeled under Otium's name.

The sudden absence of sound from the Colonel brought Otium Libero to look up, unintentionally meeting the Colonel's gaze. The Colonel's once darkened eyes widened to show Otium his bright green irises.

A moment passed between the two, and the first to move was the Colonel, drawing his Auto Rifle. It was a Glanz model with a Trotzen coloring, essentially the same as the Imperium's but instead of white and red the colors are black and neon green.

"Vägledare." the Colonel whispered to himself the name he gave his weapon.

Seher Vornehm's neigh-lifeless body reached up with the hand that wasn't covering his wound, and tugged the Colonel's arm.

The Colonel's surprised gaze shifted to Seher, dropping Vägledare into the snow as he crouched back down to Seher. The Colonel removed Seher's helmet and grasped both of his hands around Seher's hand that tugged his. Seher's blue eyes were placid, his soft face pale from blood loss. Seher looked right into the Colonel's eyes, stare unwavering.

"Qeth, my beloved son. Don't let hatred guide you." Seher's faint voice lightly graced the Colonel's ears.

"Brigadier General..." the Colonel-- Qeth-- trailed.

"Right now is the time I dreamt of, Qeth. You are no Colonel, and nor am I a Brigadier General. We are in a grace. Leave him." Seher spoke.

"But he's the one who did this to you! He's the one who stopped you from reaching your dream!" Qeth protested in his lack of understanding.

"I am at my dream, Qeth. I see the world the Guardian Deities see, and I am at peace. My only regret is that we cannot see it together." Seher smiled bitterly.

"I... I can take you to the peak. I will take you to the peak. Then we can spend your last moments together, like how you spent my first." Qeth began to cry once more.

"That would be nice, Qeth, beloved son of mine. I hope you find supreme excellence one day. I hope you end this horrid war with that supreme excellence. I will talk to the wind, Kval calls to me as the sun sets. Before it does, let's go to the peaks." Seher responded.

"Your dream was Darra. I promise to lead your campaign for Darra. I will inherit Talvisota. I will find supreme excellence. When the final banner is burned, I will set the peaks under your name. Vornehm. Vornehm... Vornehm?" Qeth held Seher, jolting his body in test for life.

He kept repeating his name hopelessly, waiting to the response of a dead man.

Qeth held the tag of Seher Vornehm to his face as he cried in anguish and balled himself up into the snow.

Otium was down the cliff now, still holding the dog tag he picked up from the snow. He shuffled through the stark coldness until Qeth and Seher rested at his feet.

Otium looked at his own tag.

>   
>  **_AURAE_  
>  IRA A.  
> 21-16-0074 BKE  
> A POS.  
> LEISH**

Ira Aurae. How did his tag end up beside him in the snow? Why now?

Qeth held Seher's tag;

> **_VORNEHM_  
>  SEHER G.  
> 07-16-0076 BKE  
> AB NEG.  
> KRÄHEN**

Both of them looked down at the tags, melancholy in their eyes. The snow began to fall again, slowly this time. Gentle flakes meandering down and sticking to the figures standing in the snow.

They both looked at each other in a moment of sentimental realization.

They were children of this cruel world Mundi. Children raised in war, live and breathe the bloody practice. They knew the same pain of war, they were both victims in this fleeting moment. Otium took off his helmet to meet Qeth's eyes.

They both had the eyes of victims, too.

And in this still silence and calm moment, the two soldiers were two victims, and there was no Leo Imperium or Krähen. There was no war, only death and pain in their eyes. This was no battlefield, but a mass grave to people with their own dreams and hopes squashed.

Their faces were that of hardened men who had become mostly numb to deaths around them. That was false, the stoic faces. Grief fell heavy in their hearts but the love for humanity weighed even more. Indomitable soldiers reduced to sentimental victims.

And both of them, children of pain and honor written in lies, have found a middle ground. They both stepped up to meet it, exchanging hands and the souvenirs left by the dead. Called traitors by the world, but consider themselves allies.

There will one day come a time that the armies they serve will order them to fight each other on the battlefield. When that day comes, they will not settle for victory.

They will die together as children of pain.

It was an odd thought, yes; to befriend an enemy you have met on the battlefield is ludicrous. Of course, Otium found himself thinking that until he offered to help bring Seher Vornehm to the peaks he dreamed of.

At the peaks of Darra, Otium sat with Qeth and looked down on the icy world below. The world seemed frozen in time aside from the rivers flowing so freely. The gray overcast was lifting to show the beautiful blue skies of Darra, something never seen in   
Skugga. The highrise of rocky spires and ice in the ice fields was a sight to truly behold while the sun set behind the grand and jagged features. The forests were forever green here, dark luscious verdant tops of pines with dark brown wood to match. The lakes were frozen over with hues of light blue, slightly gray. Most waters back in Skugga were murky and stained ugly dark browns and greens by the mud and wastes of animals. The ground and foundation was weak, wet, and soggy in Skugga; the skies always invisible because of the looming treetops or the forever rain that enveloped the land.

"Why don't you return to your platoon, Qeth?" Otium asked Qeth in the midst of the silence.

“Skugga is an ugly place. I wish the world would look as beautiful as this.” Qeth said.

“Then this place wouldn't be so special. Besides, all places are beautiful in their own nature.” Otium hummed as he looked at the sky.

“I suppose you're right, but not all people feel it. Perhaps it's the Guardian Deities’ doing.” Qeth said that last part to himself.

"I don't know what to believe anymore." Otium responded.

"You don't have to believe in anything." Qeth replied.

_"If only it were so easy."_ Otium mumbled as he looked at Seher Vornehm's dog tag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Krähen Rebellion was founded, their name wasn't actually the Krähen; they were called the Zornsucheren Resistance. When the Leo Imperium first engaged with them, they called the the Krähen due to the fact that they believed in the heathen god of Kräh and would salvage like crows. Eventually, the name Krähen became a pride to the Rebellion, and they stuck with the name as an honor to their beliefs.


	6. Τhε Cοmmαηδεr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Τhε ροωεr hε hαs cαη chαηgε τhε rεsυιτ of αηγ βαττιε.

> _**"The Commander stands for the virtues of wisdom; sincerety, benevolence, courage and strictness." -Sun Tzu, The Art of War.** _

Zuwider; the capital city of the Krähen, looking much like the Leo Imperium's, but of course it was mostly made of metal rather than sandy stones. It's still under construction, but it is supposed to have seventeen districts with spires aligned with the constellations of the Guardian Deities. The city is built in a large circular shape, each with walls for each different layer. There are eight outside districts under the names of the Eight Bulwarks, devoted to keeping the outer walls up. The eight middle sections are under the Eight Wanderers to ensure safe journey to the traders and artisans within.

The central section holds the military and the Commander and founder of the Zornsucheren, the early group of people that went off to create the Krähen.

His name is Elak Kval, meaning “a void blighted by the world to be renewed upon sunset” in ancient Mundish.

Elak Kval holed himself up the very center of Zuwider, the section known as Kval. There, Elak Kval would supposedly speak to the ancient Mundish gods, appeasing them and requesting their sight and power as one Marked by the Tide.

“Even a messenger needs their messenger, Akiron Elak Kval.”

Kväll spoke to Elak Kval, sincerity in his thrumming voice.

“I suppose so, Akiron Kväll. Even with that fact, I grow fearful each day that my message is being unheard.”

Elak Kval responded as he paced by the windows overlooking the grand city of Zuwider.

“Fret not, Akiron of Sunsetting. You are within the watch of the Guardian Deities, we who shall protect even the weakest couriers of justice.”

Zsiok loomed, his glowing blue eyes showing from beneath his black robe and cowl.

“I understand that, Guardian Zsiok, but I don't know what to do when my men are being slaughtered out of battle.”

Elak Kval furrowed his brow, his black armor of the Exile flickering the lights of neon green.

“Perhaps I have an idea.”

Skada Verklighet grinned beneath his dark Kabuki mask.

“Oh?”

Styrk, the Guardian Deity of the Right Bulwark, questioned.

With each side of the feather, there is a representative. Essentially, they are the Lord Deity of that side, governing over the balance of that specific side. In the case of Styrk, he is very vigilant when managing the movements and permissions of the Right Bulwark.

“Skada Verklighet, Hermaeus Mora, Tir, Ogma, Lao Zi, Thoth, Hephaestus, Coeus, Prometheus, Ganesha, A’as, Kuebiko, Enki, Kvasir, Gamayun, and Mergen. Those are all the names you have picked up as you travel across dimensions, correct?”

Styrk hummed and questioned.

“Yessir.”

Skada Verklighet stiffened at the question.

“So many cultures, and so many people that would miss your presence. You must restrain yourself from interfering with the other side of the dimensional gate, Guardian of the Spoken. You don't have the protection of the Kräh there as we do here. Be careful.”

Styrk warned Skada Verklighet.

“Just as Greg Lake once had said. “Knowledge is a deadly friend; if no-one sets the rules.” There is truth to those words.”

Skada Verklighet chuckled, stopping awkwardly under receiving a glare from Styrk, continuing his proposition after falsely coughing.

“Anyway, the Yttre-Veritas is very interesting. The people there refer to themselves as humans, and not Mundans. Their world is known as Earth, and they're dull creatures compared to Mundans. Yet, there are those who shine above the rest of these strange humans. One of them wrote a book about the arts of warfare, and how one conquers without need for battle.”

Skada Verklighet explained to the Council of the Ebony Eyes, who all nodded.

“So you're suggesting that this knowledge be bequeathed to Akiron Elak Kval and his armies?”

Einzig asked through his stainless steel mouth cover that protruded from his face.

“Wouldn't that throw off the balance of the world?”

Väg hesitantly questioned the proposition.

“While as appealing as that seems, Guardian of the Spoken, I think that we must find a way to balance that power.”

Styrk commented.

“A proposition, if I may.”

Zsiok requested permission to speak.

“Go ahead, Guardian of the Judgement.”

Styrk replied, folding his hands together, his carapace armor of similar fashion to the Exile armor grinding and clacking together.

“I suggest that we plant a reincarnation of the man of Yttre-Veritas. Then, it all matters who catches the man first.”

Zsiok stated his mind.

“The dead never can return to life, Zsiok.”

Ärlig warned before continuing.

“You're treading on thin ice on conditions with the council.”

“No, that's fine Ärlig. We cannot bring the dead back, but we can plant the spirit into a vessel that currently is empty.”

Styrk replied.

“What do you mean, an ‘empty vessel’, Styrk. Just what are you hinting at?”

Aye interrogated in somewhat disgust to the proposition.

“Think of it like this way. A body without a soul does not necessarily mean that the body is dead, just comatose. Over extensive period of time comatose, the soul will fade and leave room for another to occupy it. Of course, we must find a body compatible with the soul before implanting it.”

Styrk explained.

“So you're going to implant a soul into a vessel?”

Elak Kval asked, slightly irritated at the thought.

“Yes and no. Phasma will be doing it, as he is the only one of us Deities that can touch the matter of the dead. Elak Ond will foresee the procedure, as he is the only one who understands the secrets of death.”

Styrk replied, scratching at his temple in thought.

“I assume you will all discuss it with each other, right?”

Elak Kval asked.

“Indeed.”

Styrk confirmed.

“Well then, I’d like to state this meeting is adjourned.”

Elak Kval declared.

The Deities nodded, all fading from sight aside from Skada Verklighet who remained and sat beside Elak Kval.

“Yttre-Veritas is a frightening place, Akiron. I’d like to tell you of a story from there.”

Skada Verklighet whispered.

“The skies would be dark and clouded with smoke, disease deliberately spread to destroy. I am immortal, but the sight frightens me.”

“Not much frightens you.”

Elak Kval commented, folding his arms as he gazed at the orange sunset.

“Wars there are waged out of lies. They destroy each other, and it is utterly barbaric. They unleash bombs even along civilians, and systematically kill those different than they are. They torture each other, and use the elements of the air to destroy. Their technology evolved around warfare, and it really frightens me how they hold no honor in their hearts as they butcher one another.”

Skada Verklighet elaborated.

“Sounds horrifying.”

Elak Kval bitterly chuckled, eyeing the hues purple and blue in the skyline.

“The Eight Bulwarks must stand beside the Beschützen, like how the Eight Wanderers do with the Vorkämpfer. Give them the mightiest of walls, and the strongest of wills. That is all that I wish for.”

Elak Kval muttered to himself.

“I cannot protect what isn't known, Akiron; I cannot protect the potential that has yet to be found.”

Skada Verklighet responded.

“The truth always seems to escape your lips, Guardian of the Spoken. So bitter and raw, I wonder the philosophies you have been the bane to and those which you have fathered.”

Elak Kval absentmindedly spoke.

“Too many to remember, too little to forget. All that I can say is that even the knowledge that I possess is apocryphal. Henceforth the name of my dimension, Apocrypha.”

Skada Verklighet answered.

“What can you tell me about one of the wars in Yttre-Veritas?”

Elak Kval curiosity asked, left hand at his hip and the right at his chin.

“There are so many, but I’ll tell you the worst. It involved about eight different lands, and started because after the first Great War, most countries were impoverished. It began when a fascist was elected the president of Germany with promises he’d pull them out of their poverty. He certainly did, but in one of the worst ways possible.”

Skada Verklighet paused.

“What was the name of this man?”

Elak Kval asked.

“His name was Adolf Hitler. He plotted genocide of the Jews in Germany.”

Skada Verklighet replied.

“Genocide? Jews? What does that mean?”

Elak Kval was confused.

“Genocide is a word from their world. It means the act of organized mass murder against a certain demographic. Jews are those who were Jewish, and that was the demographic this genocide fell upon.”

Skada Verklighet answered before continuing.

“They would be forced to work in deplorable conditions, starved until their bones shone through their skin, and grouped together snugly like cattle. They would be poisoned by gas, and burned into ash that fell to neighboring towns. It was utterly cruel, as they slaughtered and culled and dehumanized these people. In Yttre-Veritas, there are no Deities governing over the balance and laws of the world, but the cruel, cold, dark abyss. One would never wish to live there, and should never wish to live there.”

“Guardian of the Spoken, you know of the legend that Yttre-Veritas was supposedly a paradise?”

Elak Kval asked.

“Of course I do. I know all tales, fables, myths, legends, and stories.”

Skada Verklighet responded.

“It was about how there once was a man who traversed from this world to Yttre-Veritas and back over the span of twenty years. His name is never mentioned, but he returned with his journal, right?”

Elak Kval continued asking.

“I took his journal and hid it from Mundanity for a million years. Styrk forced me to return the book to the world again, and I had no choice. I purged his name from it to stop those from searching for extreme power.”

Skada Verklighet admitted.

“He entered Yttre-Veritas by striking a deal with Zsiok’s horrible son, Skuggbild. Skuggbild is in the deepest depths of Vitium now, though. Locked up under Elak Ond’s eternally torturing servants. The man ended up stranded in one of Earth’s deserts, being helped by a passing caravan and taken to Ancient Egypt- where the kings were built great tombs for their corpses, and the sands were compensated by gold and riches brought by trade opportunities. He was ignorant to what the world had become long after.”

“So it was really all a lie.”

Elak Kval sighed, the sun setting over the last and tallest tower in the horizon.

“With all legends arrives the inevitable disillusion. Such is the way of life’s temptations.”

And as the last light of the sun faded, a declaration was made under the knife of a rampant and confused killer, blood sealing the pact.


End file.
